Into the Abyss

The major question, of course, was, why were these people laying siege to the castle? The only thing Tom could think of was Lenamare’s great personality. It was certainly enough to make Tom want to do violence to it. The other major thought was where had it come from? When he had left here only a week ago, there had been no army, but this camp seemed very well settled. It had also been there when he’d gotten back. It had basically come out of nowhere in about two days.

Thinking back on it, Tom remembered all the building and work going on about the school when he’d left. He’d simply assumed that it was the routine. Obviously they had been preparing for the siege. This siege also explained why Lenamare might risk a demon as a messenger, he was probably asking for some sort of help. Hopefully, Tom thought, he wouldn’t get it. Especially since Tom would rather be down helping the besiegers than the besieged.

All of which brought him back to his dilemma. How to get rid of the demons? He could see them now; they were placed at strategic locations around the dome, along with some humans. All together there were about four demons and three wizards. Both humans and demons seemed to be concentrating on the dome. The wizards were periodically sending fire and lightning at the dome while the demons seemed to be alternating between pounding with their fists and sending out little beams of energy themselves.

These little energy blasts being shot by the demons were interesting. Tom hadn’t realized that demons could do that. He vaguely recalled a lot of red light that seemed to surround him when he was pounding on the wall, but no real energy beams. He assumed that he could do the same as these demons, though he wasn’t sure how. He might have done it unconsciously when angered, maybe or maybe not, he didn’t know; but regardless, it would be much more difficult to consciously do it. All of which, again brought him back to his problem, how to get rid of these demons.

Of course The easiest thing would be to walk up and ask them to leave; unfortunately, he doubted that even if they were so inclined (which was also doubtful) that they could. They were probably being ordered to attack the dome by their accursed master. So if they didn’t leave, what would he do then? He guessed he’d just have to see what happened, he’d probably be forced to mayhem. He didn’t like that idea, especially considering the previous results he’d attained.

The only consolation this time however, was the fact that it was unlikely that he could actually kill them. Of course There was one other problem, Tom wasn’t at all sure he could hurt them enough to make them leave. He didn’t know how much damage any one of them might need, let alone trying to get them all. Things might get especially tight if they all ganged up on him. Although the old man had promised reinforcements, he didn’t see any behind him. Tom sighed and shook his head, the time for speculation was gone, as he was rapidly approaching the demons.

∼

In the woods, Hortwell turned from watching the demon dwindle in the sky. As he turned around, he was brought up short. Standing not two horse lengths from him was a soldier, and he wasn’t one of Lenamare’s. The soldier grinned mercilessly at him, pointing a broadsword at his middle. Hortwell, stopped cold; all thought of conjuring more demons died in his head. He gazed coolly down his nose at the soldier and waited for the man to speak. He needed time to think.

“So, old man, going to rain demons upon my buddies, is you? I think not.” The soldier said as he stepped forward bringing his sword closer to Hortwell’s chest. “I think I is going to have to put a stop to your black magic, gramps.”

This was not good, reflected Hortwell, most any protection spell would require movement of his hands, which would surely cause the soldier to stab him. “I think it’s time that there be one less magic bagger in the world, don’t you?” As the man spoke, Hortwell noticed a movement out of the side of his eye, behind the soldier.

The soldier lunged. Without thinking, Hortwell dove to his own right and yelled “Zargoffelstan, kill him!” The shout slightly distracted the soldier, so combined with Hortwell’s dive to the soldier’s left, the blade in the man’s right hand and lunging forward, only stabbed Hortwell in the shoulder. Hortwell fell, gasping in pain, his shoulder a bloody mess of cut muscle and tendons.

∼

The soldier spun, but not in time. Zargoffelstan was a minor demon, nothing like the powerful lord that had just left. But he had been Hortwell’s slave for sixty years, and from his experience, there wasn’t a better master in the world.